


One Star, Two

by virgilistic



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Heterochromia, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic AU, Orphanage, Panic Attacks, Parental Death, Past Character Death, analogical - Freeform, im sorry, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 22:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16606601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgilistic/pseuds/virgilistic
Summary: Virgil had been running from magic his entire life, had been running from the prejudice that came with it and they eyes that followed everyone who controlled it.The thing was, he wasn’t only running from himself.





	1. One Day, New

**Author's Note:**

> Hooooo boy strap in mate this is a raging dumpster fire so basically, prepare to get burned. Also! Big thanks to @ihateitwhenyourejustvague on tumblr for going to the effort of beta-ing all 7-something-thousand words of this at like 8 at night. She’s an amazing writer, so pls go and check her out!

It seemed that Virgil had spent his entire life haunted.

Haunted by the magic in his blood, haunted by the laughter of his parents, haunted by the scorn and disgust of the orphanage matron, haunted by the distrustful eyes of his peers.

There’s no rest for the wicked.

Virgil shrunk into the blanket he’d been given, his eyes downcast, still shivering slightly.

“ _Virgil, honey?” The kind lady opposite him urged. “Would you like to stay here for awhile?”_

_Virgil shook his head violently. “I want mama and papa.” He said, stubborn and scared._

_He heard the small sigh from one of the adults._

_He wanted mama’s nice hugs that always smelled like warmth and hot chocolate and home, he wanted to be picked up by papa and have him rock back and forth as he hummed a lullaby._

_He wanted mama and papa, he wanted home._

_“Virgil… you won’t be able to see mama and papa anymore. They went away.”_

_Virgil didn’t say anything. He missed the warm gold and blue light already._

_“Why?”_

_There was a hesitant silence, and Virgil was tempted to glance up. He swung his feet under the chair. They didn’t touch the ground._

_“Your parents could do things that weren’t… natural.” The lady beside him said finally, a hand coming to rest on his back. “The things that they were capable of went against the natural order of the world, and these abilities… you can’t let anyone you don’t trust see your magic, okay?”_

_Virgil didn’t understand. He never had._

_“Okay._ ”

Once he began to be sent out to foster families, things only got worse. Virgil had been young, and emotional, and nervous, and scared, and there was nobody around to teach him how to control the magic that was growing, wild and strong, inside of him.

He had no way to hide the thing that most repulsed people.

Gradually, offers stopped coming in. The houses that attempted to house him quickly sent him back, with reports of “bad behavior” or “inadequate space”.

Virgil knew the truth, though.

They sent him away when they saw the shadows that guarded him when he had a nightmare, they sent him away when they saw the light shine between his fingers as he healed a classmate’s injury, they sent him away when they saw his two-toned grey and purple eyes light up, they sent him away when they saw something they didn’t understand.

People shun the things they don’t understand.

They act cruelly towards things that scare them.

Virgil was both of these things. Nobody wanted to be around him.

Virgil, therefore, quickly learned how to control his magic. He started reading the old grimoire left to him from his parents old house, and practiced the routines in it late at night in the forest while everyone slept. He began learning the language the book was written in. He began wearing brown contacts. By the time he was 15, Virgil could wish for anything with a mere gesture and was constantly learning new ways to manipulate his magic. He could control his magic perfectly.

But the damage was done.

No-one wanted to associate with the freak.

Virgil started preparing.

He picked up a job across from his high school, and one close to the orphanage. He picked up a third job to cover the time he wasn’t working, and finished homework during breaks. He studied and studied and studied, and finally, graduation came.

Virgil was told, an air of finality and relief clear in the watching eyes, that he was to be packed and off the premise by sun-down.

Virgil just smirked and hopped into the car he was borrowing from his best friend, Patton, the only friend he had ever managed to make.

Over the next week, Virgil (with the help of Patton) found all of his classes, developed his schedule, and managed to land a job at the campus library and the coffee shop down the road to fill up his free time and to continue to save for finances.

Said schedule had him waking up at 5:30 in the morning.

Which made something deep inside of Virgil shrivel up and die each time.

Mondays, of course, were the worst.

Virgil let out a long-suffering groan as his alarm went off, bright and early.

He heard the muffled string of curses that emitted from his dorm-mate and muttered a few choice words back as he dragged his dead-weight body from the warmth of his covers.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Virgil glanced to the side. The calm blinking numbers on his phone declared the time to be 5:09. Virgil had less than an hour to get ready and to the library, 10 minutes walking distance away.

Virgil heaved another groan and yanked a brush hastily through his hair, applying makeup and throwing on his hoodie. No time for a morning shower, he’d have to take one that night.

Snatching his keys off the desk and slinging his bag over his shoulder, Virgil quietly made his way into the hall.

He had learned his lesson very early on about college students and early mornings.

After he got out of the building however, he relaxed, stuffing his earbuds into his ears and bobbing his head slightly as he walked.

Virgil observed the few people who were out and about at close to 6AM on a Monday - very few - as he walked, and offered terse, awkward smiles to those that he accidentally made eye contact with.

Soon enough, he arrived at the campus library. The doors were unlocked but most of the lights were off. Only one person was inside, a college sophomore two years older than Virgil, named Thomas. He was looking carefully through the paperwork stashed underneath the checkout, but he offered a bright smile when Virgil approached.

“Are you on checkout or return today?” He asked pleasantly.

Virgil shrugged. “Return, I believe. But I don’t think many people are going to be in today - Mondays are always slow.”

Thomas shrugged and gestured to the books in the return box.

“These need to be put up, and there were some pretty frantic freshmen yesterday, the books are definitely out of order.”

Virgil let out a soft, resigned sigh.

“On it. Thanks, Thomas.”

“No biggie.”

Virgil offered a polite smile and gathered the returned books into his arms.

The library was quiet for the most part, and cool. Virgil left his hoodie on overtop the t-shirt he wore, the “library staff” stitching visible over his heart.

At 6:00 on the dot, the hurried tap-tap of shoes on the hallway tiles interrupted the peaceful silence Virgil had struck up with Thomas as they both worked on their individual tasks, exchanging quiet murmurs when Virgil went up to gather more books.

Virgil looked up to a frazzled student in a blue sweater speed-walking through the doors.

Despite his obviously harried emotional state, when he spoke it was quiet and calculated.

“Would it be okay for me to borrow one of the laptops and sit in the language aisle?”

Thomas gave a hesitant smile. “Technically, you aren’t allowed,” Virgil watched as the student let out a gust of breath, their entire body tensing, “But Mondays are always slow, so it should be fine. If it gets active we’ll have to ask you to move to a table, though. Could I have your name to check out the laptop?”

“Logan Beris.” The student replied, relief thick in his voice.

Virgil watched as Thomas mouthed the name as he wrote it on the pad, before reaching under the desk and unlocking the cabinet and unplugging one of the laptops provided by the library and handing it to Logan.

“If you need help, Virgil will be wandering the store re-ordering books.”

Virgil flinched and ducked behind the shelf as Thomas gestured towards him.

He swore, mentally berating himself as he gently placed the book he was holding into its proper slot.

He listened as Logan thanked Thomas and heard the soft shuffle as Logan made his way to the language aisle.

Virgil understood his choice.

The aisle that contained all the textbooks and books written in foreign languages were in four shelves facing the back of the room, and very few people went there.

He’d be undisturbed and left in silence.

Virgil hummed and gave a sheepish shrug at Thomas’ knowing smile.

He moved up to the front, organizing books and moving the ones that were out of place.

True to Thomas’ word, the books were scattered and many were misplaced. Some lay on top of the shelf, where Virgil had to climb to reach.

Near the end of his shift, Virgil had ten of the twelve shelves fit in the room organized, and a new stack of books to be returned had built up on the desk by Thomas.

Virgil quickly slid the last book of aisle four into its place and made his way up.

He placed a steadying hand on the top of the pile as he moved through the library, carefully placing the books in their slots.

When he reached the last book in the pile, he sighed.

It was a hardcover french dictionary, which firmly placed it in the language aisle.

He walked to the back of the library and stepped hesitantly between the dim-lit shelves.

Logan sat in the middle of the row, criss-cross with his back leaned up against the shelf. He had the laptop in his lap, hunched over it with his hands threaded tightly in his hair, and as Virgil took another slow step into the aisle, he could hear Logan muttering something too softly for Virgil to hear.

He knocked lightly on the wooden shelf by his shoulder, questioning his judgement in not just turning around.

Logan jumped, the laptop unsettling from his lap and tilting to the side.

Logan quickly grabbed before it could slide onto the floor, the various notes and assignments precariously balanced on his thighs slipping off.

“…sorry.” Virgil murmured, ducking his head and pulling the sleeve on his hand down.

Logan blinked and shook his head, knuckles white around the edges of the computer.

“Is… everything okay?” Virgil asked haltingly, thumbing the books on the shelf as he stalled, tapping the dictionary against his leg.

“I… yes. Yes, everything is okay.” Logan said, but it sounded unsure, as if he was still trying to catch up to his own thoughts.

Virgil tapped the section for the dictionaries as he found it, leaving his finger as a placeholder as he turned, tilting his head at Logan, who’d started to busy himself with gathering the papers littered around him.

“What class is it?” Virgil asked, instead of awkwardly standing there.

Logan sighed. “Psych 101.”

Virgil blinked. “I have that class.” He said, turning back to the shelf.

Logan huffed a dry laugh. “Checked your email recently?”

Virgil frowned. “I haven’t. Last time I checked was last week for my studio art extra.”

Logan looked up at him, face grim. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil felt his anxiety shoot up. “What?” He asked, hands clenching into fists. “What happened?”

He watched as Logan picked up his phone from the shelf behind him, watched as he navigated to his email, watched as he opened an e-mail from their professor, James Bluestein.

_“Hello students! I’m sorry. You have a ‘pop quiz’ today. This is your only warning. I would advise you to go over notes from last week’s lecture and the next two lessons we haven’t covered yet._

_Mondays, am I right?”_

_Regretfully, Professor Bluestein.”_

Virgil swallowed hard.

“That…that’s all? All he said?” He asked shakily.

Logan nodded solemnly. “Class is in 3 hours.”

“When did he send that?”

“2AM. Today.”

Virgil took a deep breath.

“… Wanna study together?” He asked quietly.

Logan gave a small smirk.

“Sure.”

The last hour of his shift passed in a blur. Virgil quizzed Logan on the scant notes they had, and read review questions from the psych book over two chapters they hadn’t covered in class, and then they switched. Virgil organized the last two shelves as he was quizzed, and leant against the shelf when he was the one asking the questions. At one point Thomas peered into the aisle and handed him two books to place, and Virgil sent him a grateful smile as he went about ordering them.

Virgil was in the middle of reading a question when his phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, signaling the end of his shift.

When Logan sent him a questioning glance, he shrugged and showed him the face of his phone, which displayed a reminder flashing in time with the buzzing that read  _“shift over - move to class”._

Logan hummed and closed the laptop, pushing his papers together and handing the psych book back to Virgil.

“Would you like to walk to class now?” Logan asked, neatly arranging note papers into binders.

Virgil, shocked, didn’t say anything for a moment.

Logan was willing to put up with him for the entire ten minute walk to the course building?

As it turned out, yes, he was, and Virgil gave a sharp nod, following Logan out of the aisle.

“I have to get my bag from behind the counter.” He said quietly, looking apologetically at Logan before turning the corner. He made sure his keys were still stuffed in his bag and that his folders were neatly lined next to each other, and checked again when he reached the door just to be sure, and made his way out the door with Logan.

The next few weeks were… interesting. Virgil began to sit with Logan in the classes they shared - which, as it turned out, there were several of. He met Patton’s roommate, an overly dramatic boy named Roman, and introduced Logan to both of them.

Virgil started having study sessions with Logan every Tuesday after his shift at the coffee shop, and gradually they became close.

_(If they began to chat more than they studied, who was to know?)_

Virgil learned lots of small facts about Logan, like how he was obsessed with Crofters, or how he was taking astrology courses even though they had little to do with his major, or how he’d learned Morse code in eighth grade for no other reason then that he could, or how for every day of his senior year of high school, he had worn a slightly different colored tie, just to mess with people.

He learned that Logan was even more of a workaholic than he was, and often texted Logan on days when sleep just wasn’t working out. They’d meet up somewhere and go stargazing or something, and Virgil found himself slowly lowering his guard, found himself telling Logan about his own life. He told Logan about Patton, about the things he used to get up to back at the orphanage when he knew he wasn’t getting any sleep, about he, himself learning Morse code late at night instead of doing homework, about long nights wandering empty streets and quiet nights in the forest with nothing but the stars and a book.

It was one of these nights, slow and calm and perfect. Virgil had been telling Logan about his roommate, who’d woken up when Virgil tried to leave to meet him.

“Why don’t you just stay with me?” Logan asked, matter of fact, his eyes trained on the sky.

Virgil stopped in his tracks, voice dying in his throat.

“Don’t…. don’t you have a roommate?” He questioned.

Logan shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about renting an apartment near the coffee shop you work at. You know the one, tall building with the strange doorknob?”

Virgil nodded. He did. He and Logan had spent a solid half hour theorizing on the strange mismatched paint that covered the sides of the building. Was it graffiti? Did the owners paint it that way on purpose? Did that doorknob come with the house, or was it a replacement?

“It’s closer to most of our classes too, and we could pay if we worked together. Would you like to move in?”

Virgil let out a breath, watching a plane move slowly across the sky.

“Sure.” He said finally, twisting his fingers around his hoodie string.

Logan had given him a small smile, and the subject was put aside for the rest of the night.

The next two weeks were… hectic, to say the least.

There was the actual renting of the apartment - with Virgil’s almost obsessive working and Logan’s steady income, the first payment wouldn’t be an issue, but there were legal issues with leaving the dorms and insurance matters. When that was sorted, there was the actual moving of Logan and Virgil’s belongings.

Nevertheless, a month later, Virgil stood with Logan and stared across their apartment.

It was neat and organized - Virgil hadn’t had any furniture, coming from the orphanage, but Logan’s parents came and brought in some of their old furniture, and Logan had added a few picture frames and plants around the house that gave a warm, homely feel.

Virgil loved it. There was more room than in the dorms, there was a bathroom attached, there was an actual kitchen…

He could go on.

But most of all, there was Logan.

And as Virgil’s heart swelled with excitement and nervousness, a pale purple ball of light flickered above his clasped hands.

Suddenly, Virgil remembered the slight flaw in this plan.

He could never let Logan see his magic, and living in such close quarters with him, sharing almost every aspect of his schedule?

The chances he’d be successful were slim to none.

And, just as he’d predicted, everything came crumbling down.

It started with a residual nervous feeling that lasted throughout the day. A shadow lurking around him, a tenseness ever present in his shoulders.

And what brought it to a T was one, teeny tiny letter at the the top of an almost inconsequential assignment, one that counted for less than 1% of Virgil’s grade.

But through the dizzy lightheadedness that had come over him, this fact meant little.

Virgil collapsed as soon as he got into the apartment, pushing his back roughly against the wall opposite the door, desperately trying to contain the nausea sweeping through him.

He could feel himself spiraling. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he needed to calm down, to count, to breathe, but he just couldn’t, he didn’t know what to focus on and there were tears in his eyes and he couldn’t see and suddenly a hand touched his shoulder and Virgil just  _acted._

Virgil’s magic operated on wishes.

Like the small girl he befriended when he was small and his parents were still alive, seeing the pain she was in and merely  _wishing_  for it to go away, her scraped knee healing in the pale purple glow of Virgil’s hand.  
But as much as it operated on wishes, it was also an instinctive part of him, specifically the fight or flight instincts.

Like the shadows enveloping his small, trembling body and disorienting the older boys who were mocking him, like the force that attacked Logan now, pushing him away and holding him aloft in the air with the soft glow of magic curling around him.  
And that sudden touch, the sight stolen from him by his own tears, Virgil could feel his breath catch in his throat and his hands holding each other so tightly he could feel his nails break skin.

All he could think of was that one, tiny red letter at the top of his page.

What if he couldn’t learn the material? What if the content didn’t click? What if he failed the class and had to drop out because he didn’t have the funds to retake it? What if, what if,  _what if?_

It was suffocating, and Virgil could hardly hear anything but his own desperate coughing as he struggled to get air and the hypotheticals spinning through his mind.

And then Logan -  cool, calm, collected Logan -  called his name.

Virgil could hardly hear it, but Logan was insistent and determined, and Virgil latched on to the steady, rhythmic tone of his voice as he slowly counted, to four, to seven, to eight. Over and over again, sure and steady, even.

And gradually Virgil calmed down. He could feel the drying tear tracks on his face and the stiffness in his back and the sharp pain in his hands. He slowly regained control of his magic, the dark purple and silvery grey lights in the room fading to nothing, dissipating entirely as Virgil gently set Logan back on the floor.

Virgil watched tiredly as Logan approached him, pulling his knees loosely to his chest as Logan sat criss-cross in front of him.

“Can I ask what happened?” Logan asked softly, his voice gentle, but still calm and grounding.

Virgil took in a shuddering breath, letting his head fall down onto his arms.

“It’s stupid.” He mumbled into his arms, barely loud enough for Logan to hear.

“Debatable.” Logan said. “But I would still like to hear about it, if you’re okay with talking about it.”

Virgil heaved a sigh, not lifting his head.

“I got an F, on one of the pre-assignments my professor gives out to start a new lesson. And it’s so _stupid_ , because it’s not going to impact my grade in the class whatsoever, but I just…”    

Logan hummed. “It’s not stupid, Virgil.” He said finally. “However, I must say that this grade is not indicative of a trend. It is a test over material you likely have never seen in your life. You have had these tests in the past, and have always managed to learn the content.”

“But what if… “ Virgil slowly raised his head, leaning it against the wall behind him. “What if I can’t pay for these classes, Logan.” He asked softly, giving a bitter laugh. “I just barely paid for them this year, with a steady job and the bare minimum of finances left over from my parents, but I don’t know if…”

Logan gave a small noise and moved closer to Virgil.

“Virgil, I… I can’t say that things will work out perfectly. Hell, things hardly ever do. But, Virgil… can you look at me?”

Virgil swallowed, but tilted his head forward to make eye contact with him.

“I can say that no matter what, no matter what happens or how things end up, you are  _not_  alone. I can promise you that. I will be by your side.”

Virgil felt tears well up in his eyes again, and he nodded, diving forward into Logan’s arms when he hesitantly opened them for him. The intensity in Logan’s eyes, the passion with… with some emotion Virgil couldn’t name…

He found himself crying for the second time that day, but these tears were… different.

These tears… he didn’t mind.

Once he managed to stop crying, Logan and Virgil managed to move to the couch, where Logan pulled up one of the episodes of Sherlock - Virgil wasn’t sure which.

They watched the show in silence for a time, a comfortable silence between them.

Even so, there was a tense wall between them, the one problem that hadn’t been resolved.

And Logan wasn’t one to let questions go unanswered.

“So.” Logan said, short and awkward. “Magic.”

“Mm, yeah.” Virgil said. “I also have contacts, because well… the eyes… _my_  eyes, are kind of a red flag.”

Virgil paused, wringing his hands together and playing with the end of one of the band-aids. “I, uh… I understand if you… If you want me to move out. I know you said that you’d be with me but, magic is…. Not really looked kindly upon so I probably weirded you out and I’m sure I can-”

“Virgil,” Logan said, his voice tinged with amusement as he cut Virgil off, “I don’t mind your magic, it's… beautiful, actually.”

Virgil gave a dry laugh. “Well, you’re the only person to think so.” He said, before continuing on unsurely. “You’re not… mad?”

Logan sighed, leaning back and shaking his head. “No. I’m not mad. But… I’m worried.”

Virgil deflated. “Oh.”

“It is quite dangerous.”

“I know how to control it, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yes, I am aware, but I-”

“I offered to leave.”

Virgil winced in the silence that followed the sharp words. He hadn’t meant to get so defensive, but he’d heard the words a thousand times over.

_“Don’t talk to that Virgil kid, he’s dangerous.”_

_“Did you hear? Virgil has magic.”_

_“What a freak!”_

_“Stay away from him or you’ll get hurt.”_

_“He’s a bad kid, honey, don’t talk to him.”_

_“I won’t have my child befriending some… some unnatural brat!”_

_“He kind of scares me… Magic? It’s not normal.”_

_“The last kid who got too close to him ended up in the hospital.”_

It was the same story, the same dread in his heart, the same loneliness year after year after year.

“No, Virgil.” Logan said, breaking through his thoughts. “I’m not worried about me - I’m worried about you.”

“Me?” Virgil asked incredulously. “What danger am I in that you wouldn’t be?”

Logan frowned. “As regressive as it is, most people in this day and age still hold prejudice against those with magic blood in their veins.”

Virgil blinked.

“Why… why are you worried about me?” He asked quietly, steadily meeting his eyes.

Logan was silent for several moments, searching Virgil’s eyes.

And then, as one they moved towards each other.

The kiss was not fire and passion, it was not warmth and it was not exciting.

It was slow and it was soft and it was filled with every emotion they couldn’t find the words to express.

And then it ended, quiet and sweet.

The next two weeks were calm and… well, amazing. Virgil couldn’t help but be struck with awe every time he looked over to Logan or felt him running his finger over his knuckles when they held hands.

But those two weeks of pure, awe-striking peace only turned out to be the calm before the storm.

Virgil fell asleep with Logan an arm’s length away.

He fell asleep with his chest warm and light and happy.

He fell asleep.

And when he woke, everything had changed.

He woke up suddenly and roughly.

He woke up with his chest tight with fear and his mouth open in a desperate cry for help.

He woke up terrified and confused, with the sight of the fear in Logan’s eyes burned into his mind.

Virgil struggled, he fought with all his might, reaching a hand out for Logan, kicking and screaming.

They could take him, but he wasn’t going without a fight.

Logan was fighting just as hard where he was pinned against the wall, and Virgil even saw him snap with his teeth at the man restraining him.

Virgil jerked a knee up, and the man carrying him lost his grip just enough that Virgil could fight the rest of the way loose, and he ran to Logan, grabbing one of his hands.

He looked into Logan’s eyes, clear but filled with terror, fear for Virgil.

Virgil just smiled sadly, and  _wished._ He wished with his entire heart, his entire being, and a purple light transferred into Logan’s palm and dissipated.

And then Logan’s eyes darted to something behind him.

Before Virgil could think, something heavy came down on the back of his head, the world around him going dark, Logan’s scream echoing in his head.


	2. One Love, True

Logan could hardly think.

His mind replayed the sound of Virgil screaming his name over and over again, the way Virgil’s eyes dimmed and the way his body crumpled as he was knocked out, the fear he felt when he couldn’t get to Virgil.

The terror still ran rampant in his veins, and it was all he could do to keep himself from breaking down, from snapping completely.

Hands trembling, Logan managed to stumble his way into his room on shaking legs and get his phone.

It took several tries to type in the correct pass-code for his phone, but once he did he only had one option.

He navigated to his contacts and clicked on Roman’s name.

Logan spent the entire time the phone rang trying to come up with ways to force the words out of his mouth, but when Roman’s groggy, questioning, vaguely annoyed voice came through the phone, he found that he just… couldn’t find the words.

How do you tell someone that the most valued person in your life, the person you care for most, the person who makes you laugh, the person who…

There’s no way to break that kind of news, and all that falls out of his mouth is a broken whimper of Roman’s name.

“Logan?” Roman asks, his voice slightly panicked and full of concern. “What happened? Where are you? Is everything okay?”

“No.” Logan managed, his knees giving out even as the first tear slips down his cheek. “Nothing is ok right now.”

“Logan, where are you right now?” Roman demanded, and through the utter insistence in his tone, Logan brokenly told him.

“I’m grabbing Patton. We’ll be there in five, okay? Hang in there, Logan. We’ll be there soon.”

Logan nodded. Roman couldn’t see it, and he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He heard voices on the other end of the phone, fast and blurry, but he didn’t attempt to sort them out. He let the phone drop to the floor.

Four minutes later, there were several quick knocks on his door and then the sound of step coming in. The steps paused in Logan’s room, but, finding no-one, came to Virgil’s, where Logan sat.

“Logan?”

Patton’s voice was quiet and gentle, as if anything louder would send Logan into hysterics.

Logan tilted his head just enough to see Patton’s blurry face.

“Oh, Logan…” Roman sighed, his steps quiet as he came over, slowly sliding Logan’s glasses onto his face.

The gentle, sad words only set Logan off again, and he leaned forward into Roman as his body shook with the force of his crying.

Patton came to his other side, offering comforting words as he, too, joined the hug.

It wasn’t until much later that Logan was able to get himself under enough control to tell Roman and Patton what had happened.

“I… Virgil has magic.” He started off. Patton just hummed, one hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back, and Roman took the news in stride. “I learned of it two weeks ago, the same day..”

Logan trailed off, memories of the happy two weeks making his current loss even more potent.

“I knew.” Patton said, smiling softly at Logan’s questioning look. “We grew up in the same town, we’d been friends since before his parents died.”

He looked suddenly scared. “What… what happened, Logan?”

Logan flinched, closing his eyes tight. “He was taken.” He forced out, his throat tight.

“Taken… by who?” Roman asked.

“I don’t know. Big, muscular men. Strong enough to carry Virgil over his shoulder without out a problem, strong enough to effortlessly restrain me, strong enough to… to knock Virgil out in one hit.”

He heard Patton take a short, choking breath beside him. He looked up. Patton looked insanely worried, fear for Virgil fighting with indignance in his eyes.

When he looked at Roman, though… Roman looked _furious_. He was glaring at nothing and his hands by his side were clenched into white-knuckled fists.

“We’re going to find him.” Roman said, his voice terse and determined. “We’re going to find him, and we’re going to bring him back. Because no-one hurts any of our friends.”

Logan looked up at him and Patton. Roman spoke firmly, as if there was no other outcome, no question. And it was infectious. Patton had hope glimmering in his eyes, determination of his own beginning to shine.

And Logan nodded and leaned back from Roman. He took a deep breath, to center himself and to try to get rid of the lingering fear, and looked around the small group they had.

“Okay.” he said, crisp and clear.

They spent the entire day trying to brainstorm a plan.

And then, on the second day, Logan felt a bolt of pain, and as he shut his eyes against it-

A picture in his head, a voice accompanying, faint but there, undeniably Virgil’s, and if Logan hadn’t know Virgil’s abilities, hadn’t seen the glow pass from Virgil’s hand to his own, he would’ve thought the stress was getting to him.

But he knew.

The image in his head was, frankly, terrifying. It was Virgil.

He was on a table, restraints holding him there firmly, and bruises had bloomed across all the skin Logan could see. Virgil was pale, sickly pale, paler than Logan had ever seen him.

But as more and more pictures appeared in his mind throughout the day, he was more grateful than scared.

Virgil was giving him the missing pieces to the puzzle.

The  _who_ , the  _what_ , the  _where_.

The how.

And as much as it made hope rise in his chest, it also sent fear racing through his heart, because he could see just how _exhausted_ Virgil was. How drained he was, how much thinner, how sick he’d gotten in all of two days.

He was scared that they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. That when they rolled out their plan, it would be too late.

Logan was scared.

But when he got back to the apartment that afternoon, he began to formulate the plan, the perfect plan, the plan that would take the least amount of time and had the most likely chance of success.

The plan that would bring Virgil back home, safe and sound.

But he had to wait still, and as much as it tormented him, he was far more scared for Virgil.

Virgil, who he still received snapshots from.

Virgil, who was pale and sickly.

Virgil, who had tear tracks dried on his face and cuts and bruises scattered over his body.

Virgil. Exhausted, hurt,  _strong_  Virgil.

But he didn’t have a choice.

So Logan got Patton and Roman to go gather friends, people they trusted, people who cared and who Virgil could trust.

And as it turned out, one of them had at least a small amount of magic of their own.

Thomas.

Logan was loathe to trust anyone with Virgil’s safety on the line but these were Roman and Patton’s friends, it was almost sure that they could be trusted.

So he accepted it.

And then finally,  _finally_ , they were ready to go get Virgil.

So they all hopped into Patton’s car, with Logan at the wheel, calm and determined and approaching the address they’d found.

Logan slowed when they had almost reached it.

‘It’ being a hotel, looming high into the sky, the floors barren and the lights off and paint peeling off the walls.

“Remember the plan?” he asked lowly, sweeping his eyes over everyone in the car.

He got nods from everyone and, with a grim look on his face, turned off the car.

“Lets go.”

Virgil.

He had to get to Virgil.

Their plan was short and simple, but hopefully effective.

Thomas’s magic was just as strong as Virgil’s, it seemed, although it operated in a slightly different way.

Where Virgil’s operated on wants, desires, or instincts, Thomas’s operated on spells.

Before they went in, Thomas sat in a circle with the group, excluding Logan, and spoke a single spell, letting his light hover around them all, and gradually, as he reached the end, everyone in the circle was invisible. Logan let out a soft breath.

Step one had gone perfectly.

He nodded to the people he couldn’t see, turning and taking a deep, steadying breath before opening the doors and taking a step into the run-down hotel lobby.

Logan stood with the door open, giving his comrades the chance to sneak in around him.

A bell above the door jingled to announce his presence, echoing eerily in the cold, barren hotel.

Logan took his first step into the run-down hotel lobby, taking in the shattered glass and the off-white paint of the walls.

Before he could do much, people poured into the room.

Most of them were dressed in blue nurse scrubs, and Logan could’ve scoffed.

But he knew what he was here for.

So instead, he took a step forward, to meet the leader in the middle of the lobby.

He couldn’t tell, but Logan hoped that his friends were behind him as well. The thought gave him a strange bravery.

“You have one of my friends?” Logan asked, keeping his tone light and offering a polite smile. He didn’t need the question. But it was a good way to test the waters.

“We do not have anyone’s  _friend.”_  The leader replied, snarky and rude with his nose upturned. “We have a disgrace, an insult to humanity.”

Logan felt his lip twitch in a snarl and dropped all pretenses.

“Listen.” He said, voice cold and chilling. “Let’s have a… let’s say,  _negotiation_. Let Virgil go, and no-one gets hurt.”

Logan felt irritation well up inside of him as the leader laughed, a few quiet snickers echoing from the crowd behind him.

“The only person getting hurt here is you, honey-bun.” The leader said, patronizing.

Repressing the irritation, Logan smirked.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Logan reveled in the uneasiness that passed through the leader’s eyes in the face of his confidence.

Someone behind the leader took a step forward.

“Yeah, and what’s one person going to do against all twenty of us?”

Logan tilted his head to the side, blinking once, his voice lilting as he said, “Who said I was the only one?”

Almost as soon as Logan finished his sentence, a voice came from somewhere to his right, undeniably Roman’s, as one of the lackeys was punched square in the face.

“ _I won’t hesitate, bitch!”_

With his words and the fallen body of the man Roman had punched, the room devolved into what could only be described as chaos. Logan went fist-to-fist with the leader, trying his best to avoid colliding with his invisible teammates.

But he was anxious to get to Virgil, so, with a well-aimed kick straight into the leader’s crotch, and a follow-up punch to his temple, he quickly assessed the situation.

Things were going as well as they could.

His friends seemed to delight in defeating the people who had taken Virgil, and he could hear them quoting vines to each other as a way of pinpointing positions, filled with spite and mirth.

As it was, half of the enemy group had already been taken care of, bound and leant against a wall.

Still, he was loathe to leave his friends alone.

“Go,” said a voice in his ear, and Logan could’ve laughed. Of course it was Patton. “Go find Virgil. We’ve got it covered here.”

“Thank you, Patton.” Logan mumbled, not sure where exactly he was.

He took off down the hallway. He wasn’t sure where he was going, he just picked a direction and ran, up the stairs, down a hallway, until-

Logan wasn’t prepared for what lay inside that room.

He’d seen the pictures, he knew in theory the situation, but…

In reality, nothing had prepared him for the sight of Virgil, beaten bloody.

Nothing had prepared him for Virgil, unconscious but his face still tight with pain.

Nothing had prepared him for the sight of Virgil, five feet in front of him, covered in bruises with cuts still open and untreated on his skin, one of his old hoodies discarded messily at the end of the bed.

Logan took a deep, shuddering breath before taking quick, soft steps toward Virgil.

Virgil’s hands were locked behind him in cuffs that radiated a sickly yellow color.

Logan frowned. He knew the cuffs were likely keeping Virgil’s magic locked away.

This had been part of the plan, however. He knew there was a high chance that Virgil would be restrained in some way.

Logan pulled a bobby pin from his shirt pocket, silently thanking his over-preparation that morning. Looking up, Logan’s heart skipped a beat as he saw Virgil’s eyes, free of their colored contacts and wet with tears. Logan almost jogged over, speaking soft reassurances as he quickly picked the locks on his wrists, practically flinging them away as he enveloped Virgil in a tight hug.

Virgil started crying immediately, his chest heaving and his tears soaking the shoulder of Logan’s shirt, but he didn’t make a sound.

Logan felt as Virgil opened his mouth, but no words came, and Logan remembered the exhaustion, the anger, the violence that Virgil endured. So Logan just stood up, offering a hand and a soft smile to Virgil.

But when Virgil tried to take his hand and stand up, he just fell to his knees.

Letting out a strangled cry, Logan dove to catch him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, despite knowing full well the futility of the question. Virgil nodded his head shakily nonetheless, and Logan let out his breath in a  _whoosh_  as he sat on the floor with Virgil in his arms for a few seconds.

“Can you climb on my back?” He asked, watching Virgil closely for a response.

Virgil nodded, and Logan slowly turned so that Virgil could maneuver himself onto his back.

Once Virgil was in place, Logan slowly stood up, making sure that the camera embedded into his tie was unobstructed.

“Do you have a good grip, Virge?” Logan asked.

‘Yes’, Virgil tapped into his shoulder, and Logan couldn’t help but give a small smile.

Morse code, of course.

“Good. We’re getting you out of here, okay?”

Logan heard the softest whimper in his ear, and began jogging out of the room, down the long, long hallway, taking even, measured steps down the rickety, disused staircase.

They were one door from freedom.

But, as all things, it couldn’t be that easy.

Logan felt Virgil trembling on his back at the sight of the tall, slender man that stood in the middle of the room.

He was annoyingly posh, with perfectly slicked back blonde hair, not a strand out of place. Blue eyes peered menacingly over thin, wire glasses. He wore a tailcoat and a neatly ironed white dress-shirt; he seemed to come from a century foreign to Logan’s own.

Had Logan met him on the street, he’d have thought him an elderly man playing at delusions of grandeur.

But he met him in a run-down hotel with the love of his life terrified and shaking on his back because of the cruelty of the biased mind.

Belatedly, Logan realized that he was talking.

“… You just don’t understand, my dear, that abilities such as the ones that it displays are just not natural. Nobody was meant to have the kind of power it possesses. It’s…It’s inhuman. Surely you kids must understand.  _Magic_. Magic, it’s undocumented, and therefore dangerous, and if no-one else was going to do something about it then I decided that I must do something about it, to control this magic, to protect humanity from the likes of things like that. It is-”

“Shut up.”

Logan’s voice cold and sharp, his eyes filled with rage and as the others looked over at him he could see the shock in their eyes but…

But this was Virgil.

“He is not an ‘it’, he is not a ‘thing’. He has a name, and he is alive, and he is more human than you will ever be. He cares. He can empathize. He’s been happy, and he’s been sad, and he’s been more scared and felt more loss than you can probably imagine, but he made it through, and, well..” Logan trailed off, the passion in his voice not wavering but a soft look blooming alongside the intensity as he places a hand overtop Virgil’s where it gripped his shoulder. “Virgil taught me how to live again. He taught me how to live, how to cherish the world around me, how to… “

He trailed off, swallowing hard. “What’s more human than that?” He asked instead. “Virgil is not only human, but he is a better  _person_ than you will ever be.”

Logan could see the indignation flare up in his eyes, could read the man’s action as he pulled something out of his pocket.

“You insufferable teenagers, of course you wouldn’t understand such a noble cause as mine, but witnesses…” He trailed off, a manic smile growing on his face. _“I guess I’ll have to kill you!”_

Logan froze. He hadn’t thought to bring any long-distance weapons. They’d relied on Thomas’ magic to get them through the masses, but now Thomas was probably burned out, and too far away, there was nothing he could do.

Logan took a step back, but as soon as the man took the slightest step towards them, a bolt of deep purple-red magic shot from above Logan, and upon hitting the man, sent him onto the floor, asleep and bound in regular metal handcuffs, his knife skittering, harmless, across the floor.

“Virge?”

He felt a series of quick, fast taps on his shoulder.

_‘He’s alive, just unconscious.’_

Logan nodded.

“Ready to leave?” He asked.

Virgil set his chin on Logan shoulder and nodded, and Logan gave a tired, relieved smile to the rest of the group.

“We made it.”

The words came from Patton, breathless but ecstatic as police sirens grew clearer in the distance.

They spread like wildfire throughout the group, and then people were hugging and smiling at each other and Patton and Roman sent knowing looks at Logan and Virgil even as they rejoiced at having their friend back.

When the police show up, Patton showed them the video that had been taken with Logan’s tie cam.

Virgil watched with Logan as the police went inside, coming out several minutes later with all personnel that had been inside the building.

They were required to go to the police station, to give their accounts, but Logan was getting gradually more concerned with Virgil. He hadn’t spoken a word since he’d been found, communicating solely through brief bouts of Morse code with Logan.

But all his worries were solidified when Virgil and Logan were brought into the room to give their reports.

The police officer, who had introduced herself as Officer O’Hara, had asked for them to relate the events of the day. But when Virgil hadn’t spoken up, she’d pushed, asking for a verbal response.

And Virgil had turned to Logan beside him, eyes wide with fear. Because he couldn’t talk, he just couldn’t, it only brought pain and punishment, talking was not a good idea, he just couldn’t-

“Virgil,” Logan tried, catching Virgil’s gaze and trying to keep his voice in a warm, soothing tone.

But Logan could practically feel Virgil’s thoughts racing, his heart pounding.

Logan was lost. He didn’t know how to help, didn’t know how to get Virgil’s attention, didn’t know how to get him out of his own head.

So he did the only thing he could think to do.

Logan gently touched the back of one of Virgil’s hands, and Virgil’s head shot up.

“Virgil, can I touch you?” He asked softly.

Virgil’s eyes were hazy and panicked, as if he wasn’t sure what was real and what was just a memory of the now-past.

But he somehow managed to focus onto Logan, to latch onto his voice.

He nodded. A shaky nod, but it was all he needed.

Logan wrapped Virgil in the gentlest, warmest hug he could imagine.

“You’re okay.” He murmured into Virgil’s ear, tapping four, seven, eight onto his shoulder.

“You’re okay, you’re almost home, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

And gradually, Virgil came back to him. His trembling stopped and his breaths came steady, if a little quick.

Logan leaned back, framing Virgil’s face with his hands, and melted. Virgil looked exhausted, but Logan could just feel every emotion that had been building up since that first day overflow inside of him, and Logan asked one, soft question.

“Virgil, I…. can I kiss you?”

Virgil looked startled, but then he blinked as Logan saw something like fondness in his eyes.

And he nodded, one hand coming up to rest on Logan’s shoulder as he leaned in.

And Logan tried to push every ounce of love he felt into that kiss, every emotion he’d felt while looking at him, the fear he’d felt when he’d heard Virgil’s scream, the relief when he saw Virgil looking at him when he found him…

And he felt Virgil sigh into the kiss, one of his hands coming up to rest in Logan’s hair.

As he leaned back, taking one of Virgil’s hands in his own, he quietly asked the officer if he could give Virgil’s statement for him.

She hesitated, but in the end shook her head.

“Unfortunately not. However, I can provide paper and pen to write his account down on while I take your statement.”

Logan looked at Virgil, raising his eyebrow in silent question.

Virgil nodded, and Logan in turn smiled at him, turning to the officer. “Do I need to wait for the paper to give my own statement or is it close by?”

The officer pulled a pen and a pad of paper from one of the desk drawers, passing it to Virgil with a friendly smile.

“We can have them at the same time, considering.” She said, clasping her hands over the desk as Virgil began writing.

Logan gave a relieved breath and nodded. He wanted to get out as fast as possible.

He told the story in its entirety, including the details of the plan and the spell Virgil had cast that had given him the ability to see short snapshots of Virgil’s location.

And, after two and a half hours, they were done.

Virgil had fallen asleep in the last thirty minutes, the notepad and pen lined up neatly on the desk.

Logan didn’t blame him.

He had looked exhausted.

When it was time to leave, Logan didn’t bother to wake Virgil, instead scooping him into his arms bridal style. Patton had promised to stay to give them a ride, and true to his word, he and Roman were talking quietly in the main area of the station, but they stood and gave Logan and Virgil tired smiles as they came in.

Logan smiled back.

“Ready to go?” Patton asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Official documents are completed - we’re free to go home.”

Patton and Roman nodded in sync, and they all headed out to Patton’s car.

The ride was mostly silent.

Virgil woke up in the middle, bleary-eyed and tired.

Soft murmurs passed between them, Roman, and Patton, small talk mostly.

When they reached Virgil and Logan’s apartment, soft  _‘thank you’’_ s and  _‘stay safe’’_ s were exchanged, and then Logan helped a drowsy Virgil inside, where they promptly collapsed on the couch.

“Wanna watch Doctor Who?” Logan asked, voice soft as he ran a hand through Virgil’s hair.

Virgil nodded, a soft noise of agreement slipping from him.

Logan sat up.

“You wanna take a shower while I get everything ready?”

Virgil sat up quick, suddenly wide awake, and Logan smiled as he watched him dart into the bathroom.

He went through the motions, going slower than he usually would to give Virgil time, and when Virgil came in, wearing his old black hoodie and comfy grey sweatpants, Logan was just switching the TV over to the right program.

“Feel better?”

Virgil nodded, coming up and curling up next to where Logan sat, a pen and a note card next to him.

He watched as Virgil began to shakily write, his words messy and some misspelled, but what Logan read when Virgil finally flipped the notepad for him made his heart squeeze painfully.

He had written about how he couldn’t talk, how the words terrified him, how he knew that he was safe but something still blocked the words in his throat, choked him when he tried to let them out, how he tried and tried but just couldn’t.

When Logan reached the end of the note he placed it in Virgil’s lap, moving one of his hands to lay over top of Virgil’s.

“It’s okay.” He said softly, making sure that his sincerity showed through. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk. It doesn’t matter to me, and…” Logan broke off to offer Virgil a small smile. “It’s not like we don’t have our own way to talk.”

Virgil’s eyes went wide and he started to pat his lap, feeling for his pen but, suddenly nervous, Logan reached over and curled a hand around the one that was still under his own.

“I love you.”

Three words, a silent assortment of taps on the palm of Virgil’s hand, but possibly the most nerve-wracking thing Logan had done in his entire life.

Logan watched as Virgil’s eyes misted over and he lifted his hand, worried that he’d overstepped a boundary, but one of Virgil’s hands grabbed it back.

Virgil’s pen and paper had fallen to the ground but, Logan watched, chest tight as Virgil tapped his chest several times with his hand, then making a heart with both of his hands and placing a finger over Logan’s heart.

Logan watched, and as he looked up at Virgil and saw his meaning in his eyes, the world went blurry in front of him and he bent over Virgil, leaning his head into his shoulder as tears fell from his eyes even as laughter welled up inside him.

The road to recovery was a long one, for sure, littered with sharp curves and lacking guard rails, but Logan would be there every step of the way.

He’d promised, after all.


End file.
